User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-2246928-20140724202222/@comment-2246928-20140805143902

He slams the axe into the door with a splash of splinters, the wooden entrance trembling beneath the swing. The fox gives a grunt as he raises it high once more, swinging it once more. The tough oaken doorway caves in slightly under the newest blow, and with one more swing, the upper part of it collapses. Tearing the axehead out of the last defence Scragtail has against his attackers, the fox smashes the crumbling doorway to pieces on the deck. Walking over it, he just barely manages to raise the axe as a knife swings out, slicing into the axe's wooden haft. With a snarling laugh, the fox throws the axe aside and dodges another swing, rgappling with the rat and tackling him to the ground as his tattooed paws find a firm grip upon its head, and then twist Fishgill's neck back with a snap. A moan drifts up from a corner, and a weasel walks out of the shadows, casting his weapon aside and throwing his paws up in surrender as he falls to his knees. ¨Please, whatcher two want wid me?" Stepping away from Fishgill's carcass, the fox stretches, fingering a deep cut the late rat had given him as he looked down, unimpressed at the weasel. ¨This ain't Slank.¨